


when i wake

by RaisingCaiin



Series: RC's Kink Bingo 2018 [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Annatar is still a little shit, Consensual Somnophilia, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Kink Negotiation, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 23:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15520878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisingCaiin/pseuds/RaisingCaiin
Summary: Annatar has many, many ideas.Some of them even involve things besides rings.





	when i wake

**Author's Note:**

> for the "consent play/negotiation" square on my kink bingo card. and there we go - biiiiiingo!

Look, there you go again, blushing as though _you_ were the one spinning out a pretty fancy and asking your handsome lover if he were able to ensure that it transpired!

Shame? Tyelpe, sweet, what has shame ever done for anyone? Can you name a single thing? Mmmmmm? No, I thought not.

And handsome? My Tyelpe, you cannot truly be asking me this with any seriousness. Of course you are. Allow me to put it this way: I did not have any reason to believe that an incarnate creature could match one of my own kind before I met you. I knew that there was value in strength, of course, and in a fair appearance that could persuade others to stop and listen before raising their swords, but no. I never saw any appeal in a natural embodiment of strength or beauty or even that oft-regrettable tenderness until I saw such attributes come to full, physical harmony in you. My love, ‘handsome’ is really only the very poorest rendering that your tongue can offer of such splendor.  

No, do not cover your face – Tyelpe, how old are you? truly? – the blush hinders none of what I have just said, and I love to see it. My sweet lover. . .

Now. May I continue?

How good of you.

Very well. So you asked if there was anything else I liked, after being surprised for some reason the other night that a little impact might be pleasurable. And I, before that rising color so sweetly distracted me just now, told you that there was considerable satisfaction to be found in being teased, fondled, _loved_ , right into wakefulness.

Hmmm? No, precious, actually I would much rather you did _not_ shake me awake and ask me first every time. That rather ruins the effect, yes? Given the choice between dreaming that your lover has his hands playing between your legs and then slowly, softly waking to find that he actually _does_ , or else being jolted right from your pleasant dreams to be interrogated about what you _might_ want – no, thank you, sweet. I will always prefer the first.

Still worried? Ah, my Tyelpe. Very well, then – you have my standing permission to take your pleasure in me, on me, or against me before I wake. In fact, I would very much enjoy it if you did.

. . . much as I adore your blushing, sweet, sometimes I do worry at the rate that such a pretty miracle occurs. Has no one ever been so candid with you as I have? Precious, I will always tell you the truth, for I know that you can handle it. No matter how many funny little mental obstacles you may need to work through first, I trust that you will always see what I do in the end. Yet another reason, I think, that I love you as I do.

Now. You know how dearly I adore the dawn, that sweet still time of slow-blooming light and color before the great majority of the world’s clucking inhabitants manage to pry open their eyes and muddy its peaceful beauty with the silliness of their lives.

Well. The only thing that could make that dawn better, my love, is you.

The slow-growing speed of your breathing as you imagine playing with me, opening me, enjoying me, will only accentuate that sweet stillness I so adore. The growing boldness of your touches as you remember this talk and realize that I meant every yearning I voiced, will prove a pleasing complement to the slow movement of light into our room, across our bed, toward my face. And Tyelpe, when I finally open my eyes again, it will be to see the sun rising, to feel my lover’s arm about my waist, to hear my lover’s moans in my ear, and to know that I am held and treasured as I have asked to be.

Let me say it for you a little plainer, sweet: _hold me close and fuck me awake_.

I want you to.


End file.
